


Phantom of the Space Station

by Xenobotanist



Series: Julian Bashir's Holoprograms [2]
Category: Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Flirting, Holodecks/Holosuites, Innuendo, Lost Episode, M/M, Musical References, Pre-Slash, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23447905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobotanist/pseuds/Xenobotanist
Summary: Julian shows Garak The Phantom of the Opera, but Garak pauses it to discuss one of the songs...MY VERY FIRST FANFIC EVER.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: Julian Bashir's Holoprograms [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1840942
Comments: 1
Kudos: 64





	Phantom of the Space Station

“Computer, freeze program.”

The woman slumped on the bed did not rise. The masked and caped man looming over her continued to loom. The patrons surrounding them in the other theater seats went from merely silent to deathly still.

Julian turned to Garak, raising his eyebrows.

Garak had a distant, thoughtful look on his face that never boded well for conversation. He tilted his head, lips parted, took a breath…and closed his mouth.

Julien tried not to roll his eyes. Surely Garak didn’t think the play was _that_ bad, right? Did he disdain the material so much that he had finally been rendered speechless? Or was he composing the perfect, scathing remark to—

“Doctor, I’m not at all certain that Phantom fellow was actually singing about music.” Garak wasn’t looking at Julian but rather at the stage. He might have had a ghost of a grin on his face, but Julian wasn’t certain.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Of course he was. The title of the song is, ‘The Music of the Night,’ Garak.”

“But did you listen to the _words_ , Doctor? The lyrics were quite provocative. On Cardassia they’d be downright licentious, not proper for hearing in a public arena.” Garak gestured to the crowd, then leaned back in his seat to await Julian’s response. But he seemed to think better of it, and leaned forward again.

Julian balked. “He’s the Phantom of the Opera. He’s _obsessed_ with music. Music is all he lives for, and Christine is bringing all his dreams and fantasies to life. He wants her to join him in his endeavor, and to feel the same way he does, so he can _share_ it with her. He’s terribly lonely, you see—”

Garak interrupted. “Yes, yes, of course. But you are leading right into my point. He’s a very lonesome man, and obviously acquainted with the darker aspects of human nature. He has kidnapped a woman who is now completely at his mercy. You can’t tell me that all he wants to do is make her… _sing.”_ He raised an eyebrow in challenge.

Julian paused to gather his thoughts. “Well, certainly _some_ people have hinted that there may have been more to their relationship than is mentioned in the script, but that’s all conjecture. It isn’t relevant to the story.”

“I beg to differ, my dear.” Garak turned slightly in his seat, facing the good doctor. His knee bumped Julian, who didn’t seem to notice. “ _I_ think that the Phantom sees himself as the personification of music. And as such, when he says that music shall possess her, he means that _he_ will do so.” Garak leaned closer, smiling mischievously. “Perhaps a new take would help you to see what I mean. Computer…lights off. Begin the previous musical number, audio only.”

Hands holding his armrests, Julian tried to relax.

 _Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation_ _  
Darkness wakes… and stirs imagination_

In the dark theater, with only Garak’s breathing (and his knee, still touching Julian’s leg) for company, Julian had to agree that his senses were suddenly and immensely sharpened and heightened. And Julian had never wanted for a sense of imagination…

 _Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor_ _  
Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender_

Julian was abruptly aware of the leather armrest gripped by his hand. The feel, the shape—

_Hard as lightening, soft as candlelight_

Julian wasn’t picturing the Phantom singing to Christine. Instead, there was a picture of Garak, lips near his ear, whispering the words of the song, weaving them into his mind.

_Close your eyes for your eyes will only tell the truth_

Despite the room already being pitch black, Julian closed his eyes.

_In the dark it is easy to pretend_

His breath hitched, and he could feel his heart beat faster.

_Softly, deftly, music shall caress you_

If the music in the song was actually representing the man, then the caressing would be not notes but hands…

His heart rate accelerated as the song built up in passion.

 _Close your eyes and let music set you free_ _  
Only then… can you belong to me_

Had the Phantom said that?...Or Garak? It was murmured in such a tender, longing voice.

“Computer, free—freeze program,” Julian choked out. “Lights on.” Did he dare look at the man sitting next to him? His head turned without him consciously choosing to. He had expected to see Garak smirking knowingly his way, but the tailor was staring enigmatically at the stage. His posture was stiffer than normal, his hands gripping his thighs. He turned his face slowly, one of his usual smiles reappearing.

“Is something the matter, Doctor? You paused just after the climax, and left our poor characters without resolution.”

Julian blinked, his reply dying on his lips. Why _had_ he paused the music? While he organized his thoughts, he decided to let his friend keep talking. “What do you mean, Garak? Without resolution?”

Garak leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, I had thought that would be evident, dear.” To Julian, it was clearly _not_ evident, but Garak didn’t elaborate.

Drawing a deep breath to steady himself, Julian reluctantly but deliberately relaxed his posture. “Perhaps we should stop here today. The play does take on a new tone after this scene, and we can take time to consider what we’ve seen so far. What do you say? Meet for lunch tomorrow and discuss what we’ve seen so far?”

Did Garak look a touch…disappointed? Julian swallowed the lump in his throat mercilessly. “Garak?”

“Hmm? Oh yes, that might be for the best. This play has definitely given me more to think on than I had anticipated.”

Julian stood up and stretched, hoping we hadn’t overexaggerated his nonchalance. “I have a couple of things to take care of back at the lab, so I think I’ll head back there.” He turned toward the exit but noticed that Garak wasn’t following.

“Garak? Are you coming?” Had Garak’s eyes widened a bit at that? Did he look a tad…embarrassed? No, certainly not.

“No thank you, dear. I think I’ll remain here for a few minutes. In order to fully understand the performance as you intended me to, I will take a moment to…enjoy the ambience.”

“Suit yourself.” Julian headed for the exit, paused. “I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow.” Garak mutely nodded.

***

When Julian exited the holosuite, his face was covered in a large, goofy grin, his eyes sparkling. He chuckled to himself. He would never admit it to Garak, but he agreed with the tailor’s perspective _completely_. He remembered being introduced to the production in his late teen years, and being mildly scandalized by the suggestive tone of that particular song.

As he headed downstairs, Julian couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud of himself. After years of being manipulated into capitulations and maneuvered and bamboozled…

For once—finally—his conversation with Garak had gone exactly as he had hoped.

**Author's Note:**

> I wonder why Garak didn't want to get up just yet? ;)


End file.
